Contemplating the Ceiling
by princessofelements
Summary: A quick oneshot about Ron's thoughts leading up to, during, and after the Yule Ball.


Ron lay on his back and contemplated the ceiling. At least, if anyone asked that's what he was doing. What he was really doing was thinking about Hermione. The way she walked, talked, moved, breathed. He had absolutely no idea what was wrong with him, but here he was, yet again, daydreaming about one of his best friends in a supremely unhealthy way. He wasn't in love with her, certainly not. Love was to be reserved for beautiful girls with long, silky tresses who spoke in French accents and pouted their lips. Love was not for _Hermione_.It was unthinkable.

Ron took one final glance at the state of his dress robes in the full length mirror and curled his lip. It was useless to stand here a second longer. The horrid robes weren't going to miraculously transform into something more flattering. With any luck Hermione would have some trouble with her unruly mane, or some such thing, and they could spend the night just sitting and talking. He'd like that. He and Harry made their way down the stairs to meet Padma and Parvati. The Patel sisters were twins, but somehow Ron managed to end up with the worse-looking of the two. Wonderful. Not only was he here with a girl he could care less about, but she wasn't even cute. Life was grand.

Ron jammed his hands into the pockets of his dress robes and waited for the champions to arrive. Padma was less than thrilled, as she wanted to be right up front to witness the entrance of the champions, while Ron was more than happy to stand in a crush of people and just wait it out. The sooner the champions had their little dance thingy, the sooner the ball could finally get under way, and the sooner it would be over. He had yet to see Hermione anywhere. She really hadn't had a date after all. She could have said something, he would have taken her. He wanted to take her...One of Padma's elbows jabbed him, suddenly. The champions were arriving. Harry and Parvati, Harry looking embarrassed, Parvati waving enthusiastically. Next Fleur and that idiot Davies. Ron had to look away to keep from salivating. Next up, Cedric and Cho. Ron really thought nothing on the subject of Cho and Cedric. He just thought Cedric was a bit of a ponce. Aaah, here came the moment Ron was semi-excited about. Viktor Krum. His hero. Ron wondered who Viktor had managed to snag as his date. He'd seen a really gorgeous raven-haired sixth year around lately. At first, all Ron could see was a flash of sleek auburn hair streaked with gold. When Krum's large bulk finally moved, he was able to see..._Hermione_. Her hair wasn't crazy, it was controlled. She was wearing a gorgeous dress, and everything about her was just..perfect. And she was with Krum! What was going on here?

Harry and Ron sat side by side at one of the tables in the Great Hall, Harry watching Cho, Ron watching Hermione, and both of them distinctly unhappy about it. Padma and Parvati had both abandoned their dates, and now were now dancing with more willing partners. Ron watched moodily as Hermione twirled in Krum's arms, her face flushed from dancing. Ron saw Hermione shake her head, and straightened up a little as she made her way toward them. Ron felt so...he didn't know what he felt. All he knew was that he hated that fact the Hermione was here with Viktor Krum, and not with himself. He rejected Hermione's offer for Harry and him to share drinks with her and Victor. How could he sit there and watch her giggling and having a good time with Krum? How, when he wanted so badly to be in Krum's shoes? His argument with Hermione was lost in a haze. Ron didn't think, he just spoke and tried to veil the feelings that he could scarcely control. As he and Harry escaped back to the Gryfinddor common room, he ignored Hermione's cries that he had ruined everything. He had done nothing. If she hadn't come with that idiot, that Krum, none of this would have happened.

Ron lay on his back, and contemplated the ceiling. At least, if anyone asked that's what he was doing. What he was really doing was thinking about Hermione. The way she walked, talked, moved, breathed. He had absolutely no idea what was wrong with him, but here he was, yet again, daydreaming about one of his best friends in a supremely unhealthy way. He wasn't in love with her, certainly not. Love was to be reserved for beautiful girls with long, silky tresses who spoke in French accents and pouted their lips. Love was not for _Hermione_.It was unthinkable.


End file.
